It isn’t always sunshine, fresh bread, rainbow-coloured veg and smiles, however. Each winter I say to myself, ‘I’m not doing this for another winter’, and each year I forget… I find myself thinking, ‘Did this really happen last year?’ as the leaks start, the condensation rains down, the bitter cold persists, the ice on the inside of the roof forms and the pipes freeze up.
One morning I arrived after a really cold night and the street and the decking were icy. The padlocks on the container doors were frozen solid and I didn’t think I was actually going to get in for a minute. Inside I quickly got the fire going, oven on, heaters on, keeping my scarf and gloves on as I got things warming up. I was confused by a dinging sound. I knew all the strange sounds by now, from the gym, the timber yard or the birds. Ding, ding, ding… I realized it was coming from near the pickles and as I went over to look I realized what it was. The condensation on the ceiling had frozen overnight and now, as it slowly warmed up, it was defrosting and what I was hearing was the sound of rain falling inside.
It’s around November time when we get the first few proper overnight frosts and the containers start to move around –the temperature making the steel boxes we call home expand and contract. This causes the join where my two containers are welded together to leak, letting in the first drips of winter. I had forgotten about it, again.
I was reminded by a stream of water suddenly pouring from the ceiling, like someone had turned a tap on, draining onto the table, seats and cushions below. By the end of the day I had five of these leaks, and a line of bowls across the room. Not great for customers’ first impressions. Luckily barely anyone came in as it snowed relentlessly all day.
The fire does a great job of warming the place up once it gets going, but when it’s raining from the ceiling in the larder, streaming through the roof into bowls, bouncing out of the bowls onto the floor and dripping onto the counter and occasionally my head, I have been known to shed a frustrated tear.
It is funny how things turn around though. The following week we had a really, really cold night. I arrived to new levels of cold. Icicles hung from the taps, vases were frozen, even the toilet was frozen solid and there was nothing in the kettle to even make a coffee. I quickly realised I would prefer some indoor rain!
Choosing a shipping container as a restaurant was a twist of circumstance – one that has brought much attention and good fortune. But in winter you are very much aware of the nature of your makeshift space. Sometimes I long for normal doors, one key to get in, heating, a watertight roof; and other days I think, how boring is that?
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The winter of 2018 was incredibly long and the worst one yet – so cold for such long periods of time and then the snows came. I don’t remember anything like it to be honest. We ended up have to close for nearly a week in March. It reminded me how precarious it is running your own business. We can plan financially to close in January for a few weeks, but it’s a different story when it’s unexpected. We lost a week of trading, and then the week after when we finally thawed out, no one came. It was still bitterly cold outside and everyone was just hunkering down. I couldn’t blame them; it was exactly what I wanted to do. Over the course of those three weeks we took the same money that we would normally take in one poor week and it took a long time to recover from that.
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We’ve had other lows, our first break-in being a massive one. I had noticed something seemed odd with the branches down the side of the containers as I was opening up but didn’t go to investigate. I pulled open the doors, saw some leaves on the floor and then found the rest of the mess. They had smashed one of the tiny windows to the side and crawled in; everything was pulled out of all the drawers and shelves –a disaster. The first time they took my till and smashed it up round the back to get the cash – they could have just pressed the cash button. They also took Adrian’s iPod, and a kilo bag of ground Ouseburn coffee, which I found quite confusing. I was upset as I waited for the police, but they fingerprinted everything and were quick and helpful.
On their return a month later, obviously looking for more cash, the thieves searched the place and found nothing as I had changed the systems – but again they took the coffee! The window they broke in through is tiny, really narrow, so it can only really be kids, and I’m so confused by what the kids want with huge bags of artisan ground coffee. I have to hide my coffee at night now, which is ridiculous!
The third time it happened was the following year. I just tidied up and got on with the day in an angry and determined manner; I wasn’t going to let this stop me. On the plus side I didn’t have to get the window cleaner out for a while: I just got a new window every four weeks or so…
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I’ve learnt to fear drunken people somewhat since opening. We don’t have a licence and while the bring-your-own system is fine most of the time, sometimes people do get a bit carried away. One group of women, who shall remain nameless, didn’t seem to know their own limits. Over dinner they were so loud we had to shout at each other in the kitchen. On leaving, one woman tripped at the back of the room and skidded on her stomach across the length of the container. Like a game of human skittles, she took everyone else out as she slid, resulting in a pile up of ladies at the front door. I was very relieved that everyone survived and was even gladder when all their taxis arrived.
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One morning I arrived to find someone had used the edge of the front decking as a toilet – in the worst possible sense. That, probably, out of everything, was one of the worst days I have had at work!